


my sweet dreams are made of this

by angelica_barnes



Series: It’s a Long Way Down [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik - Musician
Genre: Anxiety, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Paranoia, imaginary death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: zayn's not exactly in his right mind.(voices are supposed to belong to people.)





	my sweet dreams are made of this

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics

 

_ Hold your head high. _

_ Feel if you dare, but don’t let it show _

_ You are a photograph _

_ A memory trapped in a snapshot _

_ We won’t set you free _

 

Too many of them crowd around him, people speaking in hushed whispers and glancing repeatedly into his blown eyes, and he feels watched though there’s nothing there - he stands alone in an empty room, with ghosts roaming about, every once in awhile pressing their cold fingertips to his exposed skin, causing him to shiver.

He doesn’t like it.

 

 

_ Be what we say _

_ Do what we say, you are a masterpiece _

_ Carefully crafted by rough hands _

_ You mean nothing to us _

_ But we’ll have our fun and you’ll let us _

 

He coughs up smoke that he breathes in every day, choking on his own life support, and the flames grow higher and people seem to be laughing at him, but everyone else has escaped, haven’t they? And there’s someone reaching out for him, calling his name, but all that twitches is his eyelids and his ears fall deaf, his world silent - he feels his skin peel and tighten as it burns.

He thinks it hurts.

 

 

_ Don’t say a word _

_ If somebody asks then we’ll force you to lie _

_ But we’re just persuading you, aren’t we? _

_ We’ve done nothing wrong… _

_ Say it, say it, you’re sickening! _

 

He grasps for the sky, but the blue disappears behind a deeper one, he blinks and everything is blurry and his eyes feel as if something is scratching them out from the inside, and he stares as bubbles float above him, remnants of his draining air supply, and spots cloud his vision as he sinks - perhaps he’s too far under for anyone to reach him, so they’re all watching helplessly.

He decides it’s more likely though, that nobody even cares.

 

 

_ Listen, worthlessness is what you are _

_ Writhe and beg and cry, no one will help you _

_ I’ll hit you harder _

_ Come after you _

_ Please will get you nowhere, stop saying thank you _

 

He feels the hits, the raging ungentle touches of anger and hatred and he’s bruising black and blue and purple and he might believe he’s most beautiful this way, and the person yells for him to be quiet, as if he’s made a single noise, said a single thing, but he feels warm liquid gush from every slit in his body and his eyes water with something like tears - the world goes darker, blacker, and he’s so tired.

He wonders if anybody will try to heal him, or if he will just be left here to become a corpse on the cold pavement.

 

 

_ Lie down, useless and stupid and nothing _

_ That’s all you are, you have to understand _

_ Don’t _

_ Don’t _

_ End me, I’ll end you, hope is a dangerous thing _

 

He feels the unsteady ground beneath his feet, and the shaking of his hands and widening of his eyes, he stares down at the endless fall, and he finds himself jumping, and he doesn’t scream or try to grab something, I mean he’s desperate but for once it feels good, the wind blows through his hair and whips against his skin and he feels his falling tears drying on his cheeks - for a moment he could swear he had wings.

He feels the adrenaline rush, and he loves it.

 

 

_ Fight back? _

_ What a silly idea _

_ You wouldn’t try that, would you? _

_ No _

_ You’re weak, weak, so weak and weak and weak and weak and ugh! _

 

He relishes the feeling of soft sheets and plush pillows, a comfortable bed that he’s lying in and his eyes are closed for once so he tries to sleep, but there’s a constant beeping and it’s faint and then fast and hard and he really doesn’t want to listen to it any longer and his eyes snap open and he sees the transparent tubes and monitors and then there’s the heart one, he blinks back tears - there’s no one else there, no one waiting for him.

He was stupid to think someone might actually come.

 

 

_ Leave _

_ Leave _

_ Leave _

_ Leave _

_ Leave _

 

He stands in the middle of an empty road, completely vacant, and for once the breeze isn’t harsh and he actually feels okay, then vehicles begin to pass him in a blur but none hit him, he stays there til night and then it’s void of figures again, and suddenly headlights shine and he stares them down - the impact knocks him out anyway.

He might’ve heard panicked screams, but probably not.

 

 

_ Alone _

_ Alone _

_ Dead _

_ Dead _

_ Please stay, ha, as if they actually mean it _

 

He bolts up in a sweaty mess of tossed blankets and thrown pillows, with expectant worried eyes staring at him, and he feels so absolutely out of place and suffocated and cold and sick and wretched and bloody and free, and he collapses again - he doesn’t want to be asleep, he doesn’t want to stay awake.

He lets them touch him, but it’s like animals’ teeth tearing off his limbs.

 

 

_ You didn’t think anyone would actually care about you, did you? _


End file.
